Whatever is on my mind in this rainy afternoon, is totally distracted by that question. I turn my head to 10 pm then find Fitz Jackson near beside me. I do not know since when he is here but at least I should not spend my time waiting the rain to stop, all by myself. Fitz and I share a class of Spanish, though he is not good at it—which is no big deal for him because he is a football team quarterback and some people believe that athletes need no great academic score.

I take a look at my wrist watch, by the way. “It’s 5 pm.” And I start to worry that I can not head home before evening.

“Boy, I’ll miss the TV show,” he sighs.

“What TV show?”

“The Nanny.”

I think my eyes are wide open, so is my mouth. I stare at him in disbelief, feel I have just misheard or something but I am sure he said exactly the same TV show that crosses my mind.

“You watch The Nanny?”

Fitz does not answer. His eyebrows dance at his face when he looks at me with no pleasant. Those emerald green eyes are now judging me for judging Fitz.

But he is wrong. At least I think his glare is wrong. In fact, I love The Nanny. I love Fran Fine. I love Mr Sheffield, and his three kids—I love Brighton the most, out of all the three kid, because he’s such a dramatic smarty pants.

“There is nothing wrong that everybody likes to watch TV show.” Fitz finally opens his mouth. “It’s the judgmental people who act like they—“

“Everybody likes TV show,” I cut his misunderstanding. “Everybody. They just do not tell you because they think you don’t have the same interest. Actually, all things could turn out to be like this. You like Japanese anime, for example, but you don’t tell anyone because you are not sure that they like it the same way. But the amount of anime lover in the whole world will surprise you.”

Fitz still refuse to talk much. We are in a suffocating silence and rain is still pouring down the ground. I consider about running through the giant amount of raindrops but tomorrow will be a sprint test and I would better save my energy. Then I catch a glimpse of Fitz who seems to think the same way about this non-stop rain.

“I like Miles.” There I say. Fitz finally looks at me with a sudden happiness beam in his green eyes.

“So do I! Did you watch the episode when Miles told Cece Babcock about Grandma Yetta? And when Miles threw away Cece’s homemade food for Mr Sheffield because it tasted awful?”

“Yeah, that was savage. I do love the savage Miles. I sometimes think that Miles and Cece would be a weird couple.”

“I know right!” Fitz, unexpectedly, laughs. And I could swear his laugh is way cuter to be seen in this near. The silence comes again but not as cold as it used to be when I was with the not-amused Fitz Jackson.

“What time is it?” Fitz asks again.

“It’s just fifteen minutes goes from the first time you ask, Fitz.”

“Oh, sorry. So is it already 5.16?”

I chuckle. He chuckles. I stop laughing. He stops laughing. Then he looks at me.

“It’s nice to have a little chat with you,” he says. “We should meet again.”

“To talk about TV show?”

“Maybe. Or something else.”

“Like what?” I do not know why but chasing him with this kind of question sounds important. Fitz blinks fast like a hundred times before blowing up the air by his mouth.

“What time is it?”

Ah, he changes the topic, that is unpleasant but quite fair, considering that maybe my rapid question is annoying. I take a look at my wrist watch again.

“One minute away from your last question.”

“Five seventeen, good. So is it already—“

“Five eighteen, yes.” We both answer it at the same time and can do nothing to kill boredom until the rain stops. So it’s between the talk about The Nanny ….